


A Starter Pistol Loud Enough

by FeoplePeel



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeoplePeel/pseuds/FeoplePeel
Summary: Nancy knows a thing or two about guns. It only takes a little pressure to receive desired results.





	A Starter Pistol Loud Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same universe as Across the Many Miles, but can be read without prior knowledge. The references are there but hopefully easy to ignore. Or if they're not, maybe you'll want to go read the story :finger guns:
> 
> Many thanks to [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/pseuds/alamorn) for scene swapping with me for this <3 She actually wrote much more of the bedroom scene (that would have bumped the rating to explicit!), but it was all wonderful c:

“When are you going to sleep with him?”

Jonathan’s brain takes a second to catch up with Nancy's words, buried hilt deep as he is between her legs. When he does, his hips stutter with his sentence.

“What?” he manages to say. Sometimes when he pretends to mishear Nancy, she lets him, especially when they're tied languidly together like this. He feels her squeeze around him and knows this isn't going to be one of those times.

“When,” Nancy says, balancing on her elbows enough to give a short, sharp thrust of her own, “are you going to sleep with Steve?”

 _Are you going to sleep with Steve?_ The last part of the question is so separated...he's worried about it himself, honestly.

“What do you think he'd look like sucking your cock?” she says, lazily, and so offhand it had to be premeditated. She tilts her chin down, eyes glinting in the lamplight. “Or here, where I'm at?”

_Steve beneath him, knees pulled up to his chest, laughing always laughing._

Jonathan feels the muscles in his abdomen coil and dissolve in a wash of pleasure as he comes. He rolls off of her, taking a moment to collect himself.

“That was unfair.”

“Not really, I finished ages ago.” She moves closer, tying off the condom and throwing it somewhere near the trash can.

“Not what I meant.”

“I know,” she grins, flipping onto her stomach to talk into her hand. “You know, I do the same thing to Steve sometimes.”

“See what kind of reaction you can get out of us?” he rolls his eyes, pulling her closer with a smile. “Charming.”

“Something like that,” she says. “Are you two going to let me watch or do you want your first time to be _special_?”

“Can we _not_ talk about this while I'm still…,” he trails off, motioning towards his state of undress.

“Right,” she bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Just the two of you then."

“You talked to him about this, _specifically_?”

“I’ve seen the way you guys kiss, you sleep in the same bed,” she shrugs. “I was just curious why it hasn’t happened yet. He was just like you--”

“Naked?” he lifts a brow.

“More worried than excited,” she clarifies. “Are you both waiting for some sort of starter pistol?”

Jonathan groans, throwing an arm over his face.

“You don't have to have sex with one another you know, I'm only teasing.” She jostles his shoulder lightly. When she gets no reaction, she swings her legs off the bed, feet hitting the floor with the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Almost midnight,” she adds under her breath.

Hop’s told Steve he doesn't have to stay for late shifts, despite what Steve calls ‘punishment from the boys’, but they both know he's making up for the time he lost after leaving last year, if only to himself.

“I’m going to shower.” Nancy leans back to kiss Jonathan's cheek. “Let you deal with the leering boyfriend." 

She does that. Calls them boyfriend, both, in private. Jonathan hasn't quite worked up to assigning...titles to anything.

“Hello?” Steve pops his head in, attention torn between the open bathroom door and the wrecked bed. He seems top tired to do any _real_ leering, but he gives it an attempt that quickly becomes a yawn. “Busy night for you two as well, I see?”

Jonathan is _sure_ he means to ask after Steve's day. What comes out is: “Why haven't _we_ had sex yet?”

Steve drops his walkie, eyes darting to the shower near-accusatory. “Do you want to have sex?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Chapter one of _The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex_ covered general dating tips including verbal consent.” Steve waves a hand through the air before settling it on his hip. “Told you you should have read it.”

“Pretty sure that applies to all dating but, fair enough, I'll sneak it out of Will’s room the next time I'm over.” Steve continues to stare at him. “ _Yes_ , Steve, I want to have sex.”  

“Oh um…,” he crouches to pick up his walkie and shoves it in the bedside table. “Now or just...in general?”

“No offense to your devilish charm but I don't think I can at the moment so…” Goosebumps start to crawl their way up Jonathan's arms and he crosses them, feeling a little self-conscious. “I mean if you want to, at some point.”

“Yes,” Steve shuts the bedside drawer and leans against it with what limited swagger he can manage after a thirteen hour shift. “I _absolutely_ want to have sex with you.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” Steve echoes, the last syllable stretching out on another yawn.

“After a full night of sleep,” Jonathan lifts an edge of the covers and Steve is just tired enough that he crawls in _before_ trying to take off his shirt and pants (which makes for an uncomfortable looking, if hilarious, experience).

This is the sight that both Nancy and Ladyhawke--who sees the open bedroom door as an invitation--walk into. Ladyhawke jumps onto the end of the bed and crawls up to plop down on Jonathan’s chest. Nancy uses both hands to move the cat back to ‘her spot’ at the far right corner of the bed with only mild protestation.

“If you don't start coming home at a decent hour, I'm letting her take your spot, Steve.” Nancy crawls onto the bed one knee at a time, leaning over Steve to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Mmhmm,” he smiles dopily, then turns on his left to face Jonathan to sigh out: “You guys miss me, that's sweet.”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “Go to sleep, idiot.”

“Love you, beautiful.”

* * *

”I asked Steve about what we talked about.” Jonathan tells Nancy over ice cream the next day. They've left Steve in bed to make up for his late hours.

”What?” she chokes, going a little bug-eyed. “When?”

“Last night.”

“I was gone for _five minutes_.”

“Do you want to have sex, yes or no?” He licks a finger where a bit of vanilla has started to melt. “We're not drafting the next Declaration of Independence.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“ _What are you doing here_?” she hisses.

He takes another, intentional lick from his cone. “Enjoying some ice cream.”

She looks like she wants to slap the object from his hand. “I've been watching you two make gaga eyes at one another since…,” her frustration fades as she actually pauses to consider the length of time.

“Holy shit,” Jonathan smiles at her.

“I mean, it was before Aaron, for Steve,” her smile is more exasperated.

He takes the last bite of Nancy's cone; she never finishes it. “What if it's awful?” he swallows. “It's going to be awful.”

“God, you sound like Steve.” She traps her smile under a more cool expression, holding up a finger. “Who I should remind you has some experience at least! Why not go home, have more than a five minute conversation?”

Jonathan looks between the movie theater in front of them and the direction of the parking lot. Nancy pats him on the side of the neck with sticky fingers. People are watching them and, as ever, Jonathan wonders what they think. Steve Harrington’s girlfriend and their odd, third wheel? That's the kindest rumour. The others...well no one he's heard has landed close to the truth save, perhaps, a few of the adults in their lives.

“I think I can handle two hours in Hawkins on my own,” she assures him. “Pick me up after... _whatever_ happens.”

“Could be nothing,” Jonathan says, removing her hand and kissing the familiar spot on her palm.

“Could be,” she chuckles. “Tell me about it later.”

* * *

It is not _nothing_.

Steve’s standing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of loungers and heating up something his mom made judging by the spicy scent in the air. His brows furrow at the sight of Jonathan, alone, but he smiles at him when he makes his way to the kitchen, regardless.

“Thought you and Nance were going to the--” Steve stops, cut off by Jonathan’s lips sealed over his own. Jonathan's found through a lot ( _a lot_ ) of practise kissing both Nancy and Steve that he's not a rush in and take charge guy so much as he is a _if I don't rush in, I will stand here and you will stand there and nothing will ever happen_...guy. Eventually they do have to breathe through their mouths. Steve is still smiling. “Well, hi.”

Steve stares at him and if Jonathan expects him to do anything more forward it doesn't happen (because of the aforementioned _nothing ever happening_ bit). Steve at least picks up on this, staring between the microwave and the door to the kitchen.

“I'm not that hungry.”

* * *

Jonathan _had_ flipped through the pages of _The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex_ before putting it in Will’s room, but nothing about the clinical drawings and terms had prepared him for the feeling of Steve working his shirt up over his head. Steve’s hands are warm and dry and span so much more of him than Nancy’s do. It tickles, when Steve huffs hot breath on his chest and grins up at him. Jonathan has to grin in return, though he's not sure how happy he looks past his nerves. Not as many as he thought there would be, considering. It’s just sex, after all, he's done sex before...he snorts. _Done_ sex before. How old is he, sixteen?

Doesn't matter. This works. He loves Steve.

 _Wait_.

“Wait.”

“What?” Steve pulls away completely, looking startled.

“Have I told you I love you?”

Steve's expression shifts into fond amusement. He's beet red, but it might be from lack of oxygen at this point. “Yeah. I mean, not those words in that order but there are other ways that count.”

“Oh, okay...good,” Jonathan murmurs, carding his fingers through Steve’s thick hair. “You know, I think Nancy was ready to lock us in a room together.”

Steve presses a kiss to Jonathan’s sternum, then rubs his cheek against Jonathan’s chest and gazes up at him. “I was being _respectful_ ,” he says. “I wasn’t _pressuring_ you.”

“By all means,” Jonathan says, “pressure me.”

Steve snorts and shoves him back so he lands on the bed with a bounce and laughed protest. He stays where he lands, waiting for Steve to join him, but instead, Steve starts to undo his jeans. “Oh,” he says, and lifts his hips. Steve pulls his boxers down with his jeans in one smooth move -- too smooth for Steve Harrington. He looks smug.

He tries not to think about how he's a little embarrassed to be naked in front of Steve. He's never embarrassed in front of Nancy anymore, and this is just Steve. Even if they hadn't just had their tongues down one another's throats, they _live_ together. Recognizing that fact doesn't prevent the feeling, somehow, so he busies his hands by stripping Steve's shirt from him instead of trying to cover himself up.

"Hey," Steve says, tossing his shirt away and kneeling between his thighs, rubbing his hands up and down Jonathan's legs, from ankle to hip. "You okay? This okay?"

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips. "Yeah, uh. Yeah. It's okay. What's the plan?"

"Well," Steve says, hands still smoothing their warm way up and down Jonathan's legs, still rubbing the tension out of him, "I was gonna start you off with the Piledriver, maybe move on to the Rusty Trombone."

Jonathan freezes for a moment, then tilts his head. "You're fucking with me," he says. Steve grins wide and brilliant and Jonathan has one crystal clear thought as he draws him up to kiss him desperately, deeply, allowing it to spill over. He loves this man but he is _absolutely_ going to fuck the stupid jokes out of him.

* * *

This isn't exactly the sight that Nancy and Ladyhawke walk into.

"Hey, guys!" she slams the door behind her with a foot. "What happened to picking me up?"

She smells Steve's lunch in the kitchen before she reaches the room. She tosses it and opens a window just in case. Ladyhawke twines her way between her legs. Nancy lifts her under an arm and cradles her until she's purring softly.

"Did those mean boys forget about you too?" She makes the circut to the bedroom, muttering. "It's been two hours. I mean," she looks down at the cat, "surely not right?"

She pauses in the bedroom door, leaning against the frame and feeling her lips tug up into a fond smile.

"How do you like that?" she says to Ladyhawke, keeping her voice low as not to disturb the two men sleeping on the bed. "Guess I won't be hearing about anything yet."

Ladyhawke struggles in her arms, bed now in her line of sight. 

"Nice try," Nancy pulls back from the room and shuts the door with a soft click. "Lets go watch some crappy television, huh girl?"


End file.
